


Decoy Donna

by Basmathgirl



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Parody, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is due to marry the famous River Song, but there are complications that demand a stand-in decoy to detract attention. The problem becomes that the decoy chosen is Donna Noble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** "Someone among my online friends wrote something commenting that depending on how you describe the movie, you might think the person was watching "The Runaway Bride" instead. So... rewrite TRB or somehow combine the two. I don't care as long as it ends up Doctor/Donna. I can even tolerate some Doctor/Rose stuff, given what I understand about TDB. :)"  
>  This was written for the **doctor_donna** (Not So) Secret Santa ficathon on LiveJournal as a Christmas gift for **tkel_paris**. After health setbacks I'm slowly getting there, love!  
>  Having only heard of Irving Braxiatel via fanfiction instead of the Doctor Who published stories, I am well aware I am probably stomping all over canon. Since when did I let that bother me?

River Song crept up to the hooded figure, and whispered, “Tell him to choose somewhere other than here.”

The recipient cast his eyes along the dimly lit ancient corridor that they stood in, looking for possible eavesdroppers as the flames of the nearby torches cast long shadows. “Where shall I suggest, my Lady? For I have no notion of where to point him.”

River had a ready answer for this, and was pleased with his response. “Tell my Lord that there is a small planet called Earth we can go to. That should please his senses,” she said with a knowing smirk.

“Indeed he does know of such a place. He has often related stories of it in the past.” Her companion joined her glee at such irony. “May I inform him that this is your wish?”

“No, I want it to be a complete surprise for him, Braxiatel,” she informed him, and then laughed. “Spoilers!” She then patted his cheek patronisingly and sauntered off to complete her own plans.

 

The twin suns beat down upon the Citadel, showing it in all its glory; but the Time Lord known generally as the Doctor did not see any of that. All he was aware of was the mutterings of the people around him. There was so much to do, with the catering, the ceremony, and rehearsals for each ritual involved. Almost too much, considering the importance placed upon this upcoming wedding. His fears would not have concerned him if he wasn’t deeply involved in the outcome. Everything depended upon this union of Houses.

Except the fuss such a connection between Houses was causing created all sorts of problems, and he hadn’t wanted much of a do in the first place. He had wanted an extremely quiet wedding with his chosen bride, since he felt the ritualised ceremony should not become a circus.

His brother appeared by his side, having removed his hood, offering silent comfort as they stood looking out onto the lush landscape. “Why don’t you have the wedding somewhere less… public, Thete?” he suggested.

“Like where, Brax?” the Doctor wondered. “Everywhere we go there will be people wanting to see.”

“You sound a bit down for a man who’s about to marry the love of his life,” Braxiatel jested.

The Doctor sighed. “I’m sure I’ll love her in time. It is my destiny to marry her after all.”

Braxiatel wasn’t wholly convinced. “Doesn’t sound like a brilliant reason to me.”

“Well, you don’t have the honour of our House resting on your shoulders in this matter,” the Doctor countered.

“Duty,” Braxiatel sighed, and they shared a compassionate shrug. “But you are lucky to have such a woman as River Song.”

“I am indeed,” the Doctor heartily agreed.

“It would be even better for your nuptials in such circumstances if you were well away from prying eyes of the city.” They stood contemplating this for some seconds, and then his brother suddenly burst out the suggestion, “How about a little planetary backwater I know, called Earth?” Seeing the disbelief on his brother’s face, Braxiatel added, “Nobody ever goes there; it’s far too primitive for their fancy tastes. And I hear it can be beautiful.”

A smile stretched over the Doctor’s face, and he slapped his brother on the shoulder in delight. “Splendid idea! Let’s see if we can make the necessary arrangements in time.”

 

The Doctor stood on a deserted London street in the early hours of the morning and sneered in disgust. “Is this what they class as civilisation?” he wondered out loud. “It all looks very primitive.”

“Don’t be so xenophobic,” his brother warned playfully. “According to one of your books, this planet can be very welcoming.”

“I said that?” the Doctor asked in disbelief. “I wonder where I got that idea from?”

“Some lame academic, no doubt. How do you fancy finding a cup of tea?” Braxiatel asked.

“They do tea here?! If they also serve biscuits with it, I shall learn to love this place,” the Doctor retorted, not expecting anything of the sort to happen.

“In that case, I suggest we find a friendly native and discover the local hospitality,” Braxiatel suggested; and led them towards the nearest collection of humans during what was commonly known as the early twenty-first century.

In next to no time they were caught by the interested attention of one Wilfred Mott, a long term newspaper seller and purveyor.

“And what can I do for you two fine gentlemen?” Wilfred Mott enquired when two strangely dressed men appeared in front of his newspaper stand. He rubbed his old gnarled hands together in glee, and to keep himself warm in the chill wintery sun. His fingerless gloves tried their best to do so, but there is a limit to everything.

Braxiatel approached Wilf first, since as the elder of the two it was his place to. “Good day, my fine upstanding man. Would you be so kind as to direct us towards an establishment that serves a decent cup of tea?”

“Now you’re talking. Hmm, where around here serves decent tea?” Wilf pondered as he considered them. “Don’t touch that muck they call tea in McDonalds, whatever you do. No, what you want to do is get yourselves down to the café on the corner of Entwhistle Street and Clarindon Road, three doors along from the Three Penny Laundromat. Do you know it?”

“I am afraid not, my good fellow,” Braxiatel politely replied.

“Oh it’s easy to find. You can’t miss it,” Wilf encouraged them, pointing down the street. “You see that green car up on the corner? Turn right there and you’ll see it as a clear as day.” Wilf then indignantly protested when the man tried to place a coin in his hand, “Here, what are you playing at?!”

“I am merely rewarding your helpfulness,” Braxiatel answered.

“Well you can keep your money,” Wilf insisted, and pressed the coin back into his hand. “Advice is always free; but you can buy a newspaper if you like.”

They exchanged a glance, and then Braxiatel said formally, “Very well.” He picked up the nearest newspaper and handed over the coin.

“That’ll do nicely,” Wilf remarked cheerfully.

“Good day to you,” Braxiatel chimed with the Doctor.

“And to you,” Wilf answered, briefly saluting them by tipping two fingers to his woolly hat. He then watched the two gentlemen adjust their leather gloves and almost march down the road towards the café he had directed them to.

 

“Splendid tea,” Braxiatel commented as he sipped his chosen beverage.

“Most refreshing,” agreed the Doctor. “How will we choose where exactly the wedding ceremony will take place?”

Braxiatel considered his answer carefully. “Perhaps we can ask another local native? So far they have been most accommodating.”

“Quite so.” The Doctor peered out the large shop window onto the street before them. “I suggest you find such a friendly native while I peruse the locale. I have a fancy for finding a suitable gift for my betrothed before we leave this destination.”

Their nodded their agreement to this plan.

The busy street was unlike any planetry market he had visited in the past. It was unusual to see goods being offered for sale behind plates of glass and he was curious to find out why this was the case here. One particular shop window held a display of intriguing items that he felt inclined to investigate further. Deep in thought, he wondered if his betrothed would find such primitive designs pleasing or disgusting; so he flung open the door with an embarrassed air more than arrogance. What he had not expected was for there to be a female member of the species standing on the other side of his obscured vision.

There was a scream of shock and pain before an irate ginger haired woman scowled at him. “Look what you’ve done!” she angrily hissed at him. “You’ve knocked my coffee all down my front!”

The evidence of this accident was all too clear, and was spreading all over her coat in a rather messy stain.

“Oh, I do apologise,” the Doctor stammered, and grabbed some nearby paper serviettes off a counter to mop up some of the spillage.

“What the hell are you playing at?! Get your mitts off me!” she yelled as she staggered back from him.

“Do be careful,” he warned, seeing her becoming unbalanced and fearing she would end up sprawled on the floor. In an effort to stop such a thing happening, he immediately took hold of her waist and held on tight.

“Hands!” she cried out, and slapped away his grasp on her hips.

“Please forgive me, miss. I meant no harm, but merely to assist you,” he stammered out as he tried to dismiss his hurt pride.

“Miss?! Do I look single to you?” she instantly wondered, to his surprise, and shook the wet coffee remnants off her hands. “No harm done, I suppose; although this coat is probably ruined.”

“Let me recompense you,” he immediately offered, and dove into his inner coat pocket to seek out his wallet.

“I don’t want your money, so there’s no need to flash it about like that,” the ginger vision before him remarked as she dabbed desperately at the coffee stain again. “Just promise me you’ll be more careful next time how you walk into a shop.” She then turned to call out to someone behind her in the shop, “See you later!”

With a tsk in the Doctor’s direction, she pushed passed him and left him standing feeling chastised. He tried glancing over the items in the shop after that, but his enthusiasm had gone for the task and he soon left empty-handed.

 

Braxiatel recognised the Gallifreyans who appeared on the pavement near him almost immediately. Their scent gave them instantly away as being nonhuman. Drat! This secret wedding was in danger of being not so secret after all. What he needed was a way to detour them; lead them nicely astray for a few hours if he couldn’t manage a few days.

Casting his anxious gaze around the vicinity, he caught sight of the old newspaper seller again. The fellow had been most accommodating earlier in the day. Would he know the answer to this possible problem? All he needed was some extra time before River turned up for the actual wedding, and after that it wouldn’t matter. The necessary deed would be done.

With a renewed determined air, Braxiatel approached Wilf to ensconce him in an informative conversation.

 

River Song materialised in London mere seconds later. She absolutely loved this place: the location, the time, the whole connection it had to her family. When she had originally read the tales the Doctor had written about the place she had just known she had had to meet him in person. When the opportunity had come up to join Houses with him, the choice had been reflexive in her case. She knew she had wanted to marry him as soon as the idea had been raised. How could such a marriage fail when they shared such a basic love? Any other love would naturally follow, logic told her; and she was already intensely fond of him.

She trusted Braxiatel to set up the wedding scene. All she wanted was to be married in this place that she had grown to love so much. It was a dream come true. The ceremony was arranged, the groom had arrived, and there were a few last minute details to sort out; that was all.

With a happy sigh, she thought about the robes she had chosen to wear for her nuptials. They were a cross between the Gallifreyan formal robes worn for any ritual, and the local custom of wearing a veiled headdress and a long white dress. The overall effect was beautiful, and she couldn’t wait to wear it all for her future husband and House member.

That was when she spotted the Gallifreyans who had landed uninvited, and a curse passed her lips. Why had they shown up now? And why were they so interested in witnessing the ceremony? All she could contemplate was her irritation that her romantic ideal had been shattered. How dare they? How dare they crop up and take away the last vestige of privacy with this arrangement?!

Fuming, she stomped away in disgust.


	2. The Meeting

Braxiatel arrived at the prearranged rendezvous, expecting to see River anxiously waiting to receive the last pieces of information about her wedding plans; but she wasn’t there. Where was she? This was all he needed! If she failed to show up it would cast humiliation upon both their Houses that they would never recover from.

With an increasingly desperate air, he started to search for any trace of her.

 

Donna watched some very weird looking blokes wander passed her as she sat idly wondering if she could use the coffee spillage as a good excuse to treat herself to that new leather coat she had been coveting. Funny that; she hadn’t known there was going to be a science fiction convention that day. Not that she normally kept track of such things, but it was handy to know in order to spot the tourist. Tourists liked buying things from her grandfather’s newspaper stall, and every penny counted.

She sighed. Yes, every penny counted towards taking him on one last trip before his illness took over. It did him well to keep busy by working, but there were days when he didn’t manage to stay with it, and on those days he often mistook her for his late wife. Those days broke her heart, especially when she had to re-inform him of his wife’s death.

A last adjustment of the magazines and she was done for the day. “Is there anything else you need me to do before I go home to get dinner ready, Gramps?” she asked him.

Wilf thought carefully for a second. “I don’t think so, Sweetheart. But can you take those seeds down the allotment for me? I promised Stan he can pick them up today.”

“No problem,” she answered cheerily. It was an easy task to carry out, after all. “I’ll do that right away.”

 

As she headed up the hill to the allotments she noticed those weirdo blokes again. It was almost as though they were following her. What on earth could they want with a vegetable patch? It wasn’t exactly your usual science fiction obsession, was it?

As she reached her grandfather’s shed, the man from earlier in the shop appeared frantically in front of her.

“Quick! Hide me!” he begged; his eyes pleaded with her to understand his plight. He had recognised her from a distance, and was delighted to see her again; although he wasn’t so sure she’d be delighted to see him. Fortunately she didn’t instantly dismiss him or his plight.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess who he was hiding from, Donna reasoned. “In here,” she immediately answered, and unlocked the shed padlock. After a few insistent pushes on it, they got the door to open and they raced in before the weirdo blokes arrived.

Keeping silent, she peeped cautiously out of the shed window. “They’re still there,” she whispered and then turned to see his reaction. She hadn’t expected him to be quite so near as she did so.

He held a single finger to his lips as she gazed back at him. “They’re after me,” he supplied in low tones.

Donna rolled her eyes. Well, she’d expected that answer, for goodness sake! Tell her something she didn’t know! “Why?” she asked.

He brought his lips right next to her ear to say, “It’s a bit like being followed by the paparazzi where I come from.” Doing so had brought him into close contact with her body, but he hastily put away that observation into the back of his mind.

His breath caused an involuntary shiver to pass through her. Nope, she refused to let his nearness and their compromising position affect her sensibilities. “Are you famous then?” she wondered.

“Sort of,” he supplied. “I can’t seem to get any privacy.”

She pulled a sympathetic face and then peeped out the window again. It was safer to do that than remain in close proximity. The weirdo blokes were starting to leave, thankfully. Donna turned and thumbed towards the window. “Your mates are buggering off. We’ll be able to creep out in a moment. By the way…” Donna fixed her inquisitive gaze on him. “Why are they following you about?”

Oh! How could he explain such a concept to someone so primitive? He thought back to the books he had written so long ago now. “They erm… they are fans stalking me. I wrote a couple of books,” the Doctor boasted.

“Really?!” Her shocked eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “You don’t look like an author.”

“Don’t I?” He peered down at himself, worried by her tone. “What does an author look like?”

“I dunno,” she readily admitted. “But you’re not what I would expect. Authors are arty types, aren’t they?”

“Yes, sometimes,” he replied evenly. “And what exactly do I look like?”

Her eyes swept down and back up his body in open judgement. “A bit of a banker, if I’m honest. Was it a book about finance and commerce?”

“No, it was not!” he retorted indignantly. He then released a small sniff and adjusted his tie. “It was a work that wove travel, fiction and fact in, and I quote; ‘a mesmerising piece that enticed the senses’.”

She snorted a laugh. “I bet it did! Is that shorthand for saying it was a porn book?”

“It certainly was not!” he involuntarily cried. “I extolled the virtues of London and its rich cultural landscape.”

“So you wrote about porn set in London?” she teased, and smirked at his expression of disgust. “Come on then, tell me your name and this famous book you wrote.”

He adjusted his tie again. “I’m known as the Doctor, and my book is called ‘The Justification of the Metaphysical Existence Within the Extra-Terrestrial London Conurbation’,” he supplied.

“Catchy title,” she mocked. “Sorry, but I’ve never heard of it or you. Where are you from? I take it you’re not from around here.”

“I erm…” He gave a little cough. “A place called Gallifrey.”

Donna frowned as she desperately tried to figure out where that is. “Isn’t that in Scotland? I think I’ve been passed it on the motorway.”

The Doctor smiled to himself. “I doubt it. Anyway, thank you for hiding me. I have a wedding to get to.”

“Oh yeah? Where?” she inevitably asked.

“Ah ah ah! You won’t catch me out that easily,” he said, flashing her a genuine smile this time. He politely held out his hand for her to shake. “It was lovely to meet you properly, er…?”

“I’m Donna. Donna Noble,” she replied, shaking his offered hand and noticing how soft and pleasing it was to touch. “I hope you enjoy the wedding. Who’s getting married? And do you need a date?”

He laughed with delight. Meeting her again hadn’t been too bad at all, and she had a lovely warm handshake, he noted absently. “My brother might do but unfortunately I must decline your generous offer. It is I that is getting married,” he answered; and quietly crowed at her surprised expression. “Goodbye, Donna.”

“Goodbye, Doctor; and good luck with the wedding. Mind how you go out there,” she said, indicating towards the allotment outside, and stood aside to let him out.

On that high note, he left the shed and Donna Noble behind. Her company had been a most pleasing distraction from his current worries.

 

“There she is!” greeted her appearance as Donna entered her home a short while later.

She walked into the kitchen-diner to see her grandfather sitting talking to an unknown visitor, who immediately turned in her direction.

“Hello, Gramps. Hello,” she greeted them, aiming the second ‘hello’ towards the strangely familiar man sitting in their kitchen. He was extremely well dressed, albeit a little weirdly; but his manners were impeccable.

“Hello. Nice to meet you,” he replied; in a cultured and deliciously smooth voice.

Donna found herself distracted by that fact for a few moments, until Wilf cut in by saying, “Donna, this is Irvine Braxiatel. I met Mr Braxiatel at the newspaper stand this morning, and he needs a bit of help.”

“You do?” Donna heard herself ask dreamily.

He smiled a gorgeous smile back at her. “Indeed I do, Miss Noble,” Braxiatel confirmed.

“Call me Donna,” she immediately insisted, trying not to blush under his scrutiny. Did he have this effect on every woman he met? She put out a hand in greeting.

“In that case, please call me Braxiatel, or even Brax. All my close friends call me that,” Braxiatel offered, accepting her handshake. “Your grandfather tells me that you may be able to assist me in my quest.”

“Did he? Trust him to volunteer me,” she quipped. “What exactly are you after? Only… I’m normally a secretarial temp, although I’ve just finished a work placement in Hounslow Library.”

Braxiatel’s expression lit up in interest. “Is that so? I myself am an archivist, of books and other precious artefacts; so we share a common interest.” He beamed with delight at this find. Not only was she very pleasant to look at, she also evidently shared some of his passions.

“I was just telling him how you are good at finding stuff,” Wilf added, hoping he was helping in this little scenario. “On the computer and all that.” He then added in a mimed impression of typing on a computer keyboard.

Donna watched the action with dismay. What must this Brax think of her? “Yes, I can type,” she stated hesitantly. “Did you need me to get on the computer?”

What he really wanted to do was use her computer himself, but Braxiatel knew that she might be able to find what he needed much quicker since she was familiar with the system on this planet. “Yes please.” He smiled his sweetest smile. “I need to locate a wedding venue, accommodation, an officiant, and a possible honeymoon location.”

“Is that all?” she teased, thinking that he didn’t want much! “Then you’d better follow me.”

Donna led Braxiatel to her computer that sat in the corner of the front room; and in next to no time she had it booted up and searching out what he wanted. Braxiatel was very impressed that within half an hour she had established the fact that River had already booked and paid for a venue, and the officiant. All he had to do was arrange accommodation, and that was very quickly achieved with Donna’s help. Less than an hour later they were sitting happily sharing another cup of tea.

Now on to more delicate things. Braxiatel carefully put his tea cup down and opened the conversation that would possible solve a different matter. “Your grandfather tells me that your father is not too well.”

Donna shot him a surprised look, and then deflated as unwanted thoughts bombarded her. “Yes, he’s not got long, they’ve told us. The cancer has spread further than they thought at first. But he’s staying chipper,” she tried to say matter of factly.

“And do you have any particular plans? I mean, any last minute things he’d like to achieve?” Braxiatel wondered softly.

“Well…,” she began to answer, and hastily wiped away a tear. “I want to buy him the telescope he’s always wanted.”

“Is it very expensive?” he asked.

“And the rest!” she snorted in scorn. “Those things cost an arm and a leg if you want a decent one.”

“How near are you to getting the one he wants?”

“About as far as it is from here to Timbuktu,” she reluctantly admitted. “I’ll never be able to afford it at this rate.”

Here was his cue! Braxiatel leaned forward and placed a consoling hand over hers. “How about I help you with that? I could help you earn that money.”

She started and whipped away her hand. “Here! What are you suggesting?! I’m no tart!” she exclaimed.

“Nothing untoward, I promise, Donna,” he reassured her, smiling gently. “I merely have a business proposition.”

“Good! ‘Cos I’m having none of that business!” she blustered, shaking herself in relief. “I’ve had that trick played on me too often.”

His hearts softened at her hurtful tone. “Oh Donna, why would anyone be so cruel to you? No, I merely want to ask a favour from you, and I am very willing to pay for your time,” he soothed her.

“Nothing dodgy?” she wondered faintly.

He shook his head. “Nothing dodgy at all.”


	3. The Wedding

Braxiatel felt himself warm to Donna even more. “You have already helped me far more than you will ever know with the arrangements for my brother’s wedding; and as you are well aware, it has gained some unwanted attention.”

“You can say that again,” she muttered.

He frowned in confusion. Why would he want to say that again? Anyway… “I have another teeny tiny problem that cropped up this afternoon that your search has confirmed.”

“Oh yes?” she asked; her interest piqued.

“Yes, I’m afraid the bride has momentarily… well, not to put too fine a point to it… she has disappeared,” he explained.

“Disappeared?! Why would she do that?” Donna blurted out the question.

Braxiatel sighed. This was the situation he had been dreading. River Song may be famous for her archaeological knowledge, but she was also infamous for being somewhat flighty and having unreliable behaviour. This would not be the first engagement she had not attended. “I wish I knew why she feels the need to go off somewhere, but unfortunately I have that to deal with and the unwanted Gallifreyan guests that have arrived. In other words, I do not want the Gallifreyan paparazzi getting wind of this. It would be shaming; to both our Houses, but ours in particular.”

“Oh,” Donna gasped in understanding. “So what was it you wanted to ask me?”

A grin slowly spread across his face; she was a delight to deal with, and this situation was about to get a lot easier. “Have you ever been a bridesmaid, Donna?”

“Have I?! I could almost write the handbook,” she joked, and paid him all her attention.

 

Braxiatel’s meeting with his own brother did not go so well as his meeting with Wilfred Mott and his delightful granddaughter. “Please, Thete; don’t go rushing off!”

“Don’t go..!” the Doctor repeated in disgust. “What do you expect me to do, Brax? We are supposed to be married in the morning, you tell me River has run off, and you expect me to not chase after her? Who do you think I am?!”

Braxiatel stepped up close and placed a consoling hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “I expect you to act with honour; just as I always do. But we have to take into consideration that she might not want to marry you after all.”

The Doctor fervently shook his head. “She wants to marry me; I know she does. She’s just a little bit jumpy about the bad publicity she gets all the time; the way people gossip and judge her actions. I know she will come back.”

“And what if she doesn’t?” Braxiatel softly asked.

“Then… then… I don’t know!” The Doctor threw up his hands in desperation. “It means too much to her to abandon her plans now.”

“In that case, perhaps we should divert some of that attention away, so that River feels able to approach you more easily,” Braxiatel pondered.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. “What exactly are you proposing?”

He took a deep breath. “We have found someone who will step in and pretend to be your bride. She seems a most suitable human, and goes by the name of…,” Braxiatel started to explain.

“Don’t even bother telling me her name!” the Doctor exploded angrily. “I just want this whole sorry business over and done with!”

“But Thete…,” Braxiatel started to protest, but the Doctor cut him off.

“Don’t, Brax! Just go out and find my future wife for me, please. I’ll be here, practising and learning my lines for the ceremony.”

Braxiatel bowed in acceptance. “Very well. I shall find your bride straightaway, but be warned that it may not end as you expect.”

“Just find her,” the Doctor pleaded, so Braxiatel ran from the room.

 

The Doctor muttered to himself, making sure he knew his lines and that they were pitch perfect. Anxiously he rubbed the back of his neck, fully aware of the constrictions of the ceremonial robes he wore. Why couldn’t he have worn his usual clothing instead of these heavy things? At least he had been able to insist he wore his customary suit underneath instead of all those long tunics River had tried to dictate he wore. Good grief! That had been the first thing to go in her list of demands. He may be doing this partly out of duty to his House, but he’d be blowed if he ended up scratching himself to death as he did so; thanks to some extremely uncomfortable, though traditional, underwear.

He turned and peered at the entrance to the small church they had commandeered. It had been chosen by River because it sat in the middle of a tiny island in the centre of the River Thames. It was both picturesque and remote from all unwanted attention. The officiant had been especially imported from Gallifrey to carry out the ceremony, the music had been pre-recorded to comply with her strict tastes, and all that was missing now was the actual bride.

Where was she? There was no sign of anybody else. He had sent Braxiatel to go and look what seemed ages ago, and there was still no sign of her! He was starting to get angry now! If she didn’t turn up in the next sixty seconds, so help him, he would storm out himself and never come back.

At that very moment, Braxiatel appeared in the doorway and gave him a reassuring thumbs up, mouthing, “She’s here.”

“Good,” he mouthed back, deeply relieved that he hadn’t been jilted at the altar, again. She’d already pulled that trick on him once; and he’d easily forgiven her that time, since she had entered the ceremony, seen the swathes of courtiers, and ran for the hills in fear. In some respects he couldn’t blame her for being so fearful of the attention; but his patience was wearing thin. All he wanted to do was get married and have this whole thing over and done with. Once it was, his House could go back to retaining its dignity, and he could get back to planning his escape and leaving them all to it.

There was a bit of a struggle at the door as Braxiatel reappeared with his bride, and then they started their slow march down the aisle towards him.

The Doctor took deep breaths to steady his nerves. The bride, he told himself; keep your focus on the bride. And after a few seconds it was very easy to do that. Her outfit was absolutely beautiful! Her cream ceremonial robes contrasted wonderfully with the stark white of the dress she wore underneath. It was studded with pearls and tiny crystal stars that glistened in the light of the chapel. Little lace flowers lined the neckline that framed her magnificent bosom. When had she acquired such a fantastic cleavage? It took all his strength not to keep his focus on the plunging neckline or the round swells of flesh that erupted from the tulle in such an enticing way. He mentally rubbed his hands in glee at the prospect of removing that dress later on and exploring the underlying landscape!

As for the bride herself, he couldn’t see her face. It was hidden below an opaque veil made from several layers of netting, dusted with the same pearls and crystal stars as on the dress. Never mind. He was sure she looked her very best. She always did. No, he had no fear with that fact.

As she swept up to his side, and Braxiatel placed her hand on top of the Doctor’s, he had a moment of doubt. He wondered about what shoes she had chosen to wear, because she was normally a different height to him, and he didn’t remember hearing her usual footsteps.

The officiant began to wrap a long silken rope around their joined hands, binding them from their wrists; and the Doctor had another moment of doubt. River had changed her perfume, he noted; and why hadn’t she shot him her usual smug smile whenever they met. Or greeted him with a “Hello, Sweetie”?

He turned a puzzled frown onto Braxiatel, but he was deliberately ignoring him, failing to make eye contact.

The officiant prompted him to say his vows at that moment, so he swiftly spurted out the words he had been practising for so long with ease; and then waited with bated breath to hear River say hers.

“I… take you…,” his bride hesitantly enunciated, in a voice that clearly wasn’t River Song.

The Doctor grabbed the edge of the veil and swiftly pulled it away from her face. “Who are you?” he demanded to know, just before recognition set in.

“Donna Noble,” she gasped, staring at him with wild open eyes. She gulped nervously, glanced at the officiant and then said the last words of the vows.

“No! This can’t be happening!” the Doctor protested feebly. “It just can’t!”

“Thete,” Braxiatel cried out as the Doctor turned and looked as though he was headed down the aisle. “Stay!”

Donna just stood there looking very chastised and stunned.

“What are you doing here?” the Doctor quizzed her. “Why are you wearing that dress?”

“I…” Her mouth stopped moving as she implored Braxiatel with her eyes to rescue the situation.

Braxiatel stepped in front of the Doctor. “It’s like this… Donna offered to help you by taking River’s place. This is all temporary until she turns up, just like you said she would.”

“I did,” the Doctor replied, still unable to believe she had jilted him again. It was then that he noticed his hand was still bound to Donna’s.

The officiant smiled at him and then at Donna. “You may go, my son,” he stated, and untied the silken cord.

The Doctor rubbed his wrist despite there being no pain, and asked Donna, “Are you alright?”

She smiled back wanly. “I’m fine.”

“In that case, can we get out of here,” Braxiatel said, trying to shush them down the aisle. “We need to hurry before the vanguard turn up and spoil things.”

“I’d better cover up again,” Donna reasoned, and threw the veil back over her face.

Taking charge, Braxiatel took one arm of each of them and marched them out of the church. Fortunately they didn’t protest or resist his attempts to retrieve the situation; and for that he was eternally grateful. His next task was to locate the real bride and hide away the ‘happy couple’ until he did. With that in mind, he escorted them to the honeymoon suite he had booked them, made sure they were both safely inside, and then scarpered with the key. Well, he didn’t want them escaping and he didn’t want anyone else getting in. That would be bad; very bad for the House’s reputation.

 

Donna and the Doctor stood looking at each other in silence for a minute or so; and then Donna decided to break it. There was no way she intended to stay underneath that heavy veil like a punished budgie; so she lifted it off her face and said, “Hello. Do you come here often?”

The Doctor immediately burst into laughter. “Only with strange women, it would seem.”

“Oi! Who are you calling strange?” she protested with mock rage. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly lovely.”

“Yes you are,” he agreed, giving in to his need to surruptiously cast a glance at her bust. Well, it positively demanded attention, he reasoned; what with the lovely way it popped up and begged. “Do you erm…” He stopped speaking as soon as he realised his voice had gone unaccountably squeaky. Using a cough to cover the action, he deliberately lowered his tone. “Do you fancy a drink?” he asked.

“Oh look! We’ve got champagne!” she squealed with delight when she saw the bottle sitting invitingly on the bedroom counter. She then shot him a coy smile that crashed into his groin. “Would it be wrong if we had some?”

‘Well, we are married’, he argued to himself before he could halt the thought.


	4. The Marriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting earlier - I actually escaped from the house.

“I don’t see why not,” the Doctor said instead, and busied himself with dislodging the foil wrapped cork. With a deft flick of his wrists, he wriggled it and attempted to open the bottle of champagne.

It fizzed up and popped with a whimsical bang; and Donna giggled with delight as she held out two champagne flutes for him to fill. “Look, they thought of everything,” she informed him. “There’s even rose petals on the bed… Oh!”

He sighed. “Yes, very romantic,” he agreed. “Shame we can’t make use of it.”

“We can sit on it. That would be allowed,” Donna considered. “There’s no harm in sitting on the bed watching TV whilst drinking champagne, is there?”

“None whatsoever,” he happily agreed. “Shall we?” He guided her to sit down, flicked off the rose petals before they could stain the dress and helped her adjust her outfit. “You do know that we don’t have to keep the robes on anymore, don’t you?” he informed her as he stood up, trying not to stand over her.

“Don’t we?” she asked.

“No. We can take them off, and anything else we want to,” he said carefully.

“Well I’m certainly ditching the cape,” she commented as she sought to shrug it off, “and bang goes the shoes,” she added as she kicked the matching ivory shoes off, “but I’m definitely keeping the wedding dress on. I’ll never know when I get the chance to wear one again.”

He picked their discarded robes up off the bed and slung them over a nearby chair. “Don’t say that, Donna. You’ll probably get the chance very soon.”

“Not me, mate! You see before you the eternal spinster, destined to sit on the shelf forever. We can’t all be like you,” she remarked.

“And what exactly is that?” he wondered as he sat down next to her.

“All thingy,” she said, suddenly aware of how close he was again to her. She waved a hand about to indicate the room. “All of this is a bit posh for me, but it suits you down to the ground.”

That made him smile. “I’m not posh at all, Donna. This is all a façade.” 

She took a long sip of her drink. “This is really nice. I don’t get to drink champagne very often. Normally it’s only at Christmas or the New Year. Or even,” she stated, swaying slightly on the spot as the sudden shot of alcohol hit her, “on the odd occasion that West Ham win the cup. That one hasn’t happened in a very long time.”

He smirked at her. “I get the impression you don’t drink it very often at all. Would you like some more?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she readily replied, and placed her glass in front of him to be topped up. She then winced as movement caused her veil to hold her head in place.

Immediately the Doctor offered, “Can I help you with that?”

Before Donna could agree or protest, his nimble fingers were on her head searching for the pins that secured the headdress. “I can do that,” she insisted; and accidentally brushed her own fingers against his as she tried to remember where the hairclips had been placed.

She felt the final clip release its hold on her, and then the thick, heavy veil was lifted away.

“That’s better,” the Doctor said as he flung the lace netting to the side and gasped in surprise. Donna’s newly loosened, curling, long ginger hair cascaded down over her almost bare shoulders, framing her face beautifully. He had never seen anything so lovely in his life.

“What’s the matter?” she asked anxiously.

Risking taking a lock of hair between his fingers, he reassured her by saying, “Nothing. Your hair; you’ve got beautiful hair!”

Suddenly embarrassed by the compliment, she lamely replied, “Thank you. And you’ve got… eyes.” Hopefully vaguely pointing at his head helped with that slip up. “Your erm, your real bride. Tell me about her.”

The Doctor let go as he recoiled from the request, and cleared his throat. “River is a professor of archaeology and renowned on Gallifrey as a woman who gets what she wants, by fair means or foul. The House she belongs to has a great deal of power, and it was thought to be beneficial if we got married.”

“But what about you? I know you said it’s generally a good idea, but do you love her?” Donna enquired. 

“I’m sure I’ll learn to love her more. She is very attractive and excellent company,” he stated. 

“So it’s more of an arranged marriage then a love match,” Donna noted.

The Doctor ignored that, and requested instead, “Tell me about yourself.”

Oh, she recognised that for what it was; a humongous evasion tactic. Did he think she was stupid? Perhaps for now she’d let him get away with it. “What’s to tell? I live with Gramps, to save him from being lonely and… to tell the truth, I’m worried about him. He’s losing it a bit; so it comes and goes.”

“Losing it?” he queried in confusion.

“His mind; he keeps thinking I’m my Nan. But what do you expect at his age? What with him and my dad, I’m beginning to think I should retrain as a nurse,” she explained. 

The Doctor drained his glass, leaned over to pick up the bottle of champagne, and rolled over to wave it in invitation at Donna as a cover to peer at her luscious bosom again. Well, if he was going to end up with someone else, he might as well make the most of this opportunity. “Can I tempt you?” he asked with an unintentional leer.

“Always,” she happily replied, and brought her own glass nearer. “I must say, you’re taking all this awfully well.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I trust Brax to sort things out. He’s terribly good at organising me.” He took a sip of his champagne. “How did he get you to do this?” 

He watched with keen interest as her hand fluttered onto her chest. 

“Oh, it’s simple,” she supplied. “He asked me; very nicely.” 

The Doctor frowned. How nicely? “So… you’re erm… you like Brax?” he cagily enquired.

“Oh yes!” Donna enthused. “He’s lovely.” She then took another sip of her drink.

The Doctor felt his hearts sink, for some inexplicable reason. “Lovely in a cute little puppy way, or lovely in a fanciable way?” he tried to find out.

Donna laughed and batted at his chest. “Give over! You make it sound like you are jealous.”

She gazed at her hand as it rested on his chest, right near those enticing buttons, and noticed the gleaming object on her hand. “This wedding ring you’ve chosen is gorgeous, what with all the Elvish writing and that. Are you both big Lord of the Rings fans? Or is it only you?”

“What?!” he immediately exclaimed, and grabbed her hand to examine the ring up close. “Where did you get that?”

“Off of you, you prawn! Where did you think I got it? Out of a Christmas cracker?!” she defended herself. “It matches the one you’re wearing.” She held up her released hand and gazed longingly at the ring that still sat on her finger. “It looks really good on me. I suppose I’ll have to give it back when your River appears.”

The Doctor was too busy spluttering to pay exact attention to her words. Instead he absently muttered, “Keep it.”

“I can?” she wondered in disbelief, and beamed a beautiful smile at him. “I bloody love you!” she proclaimed, and totally shook him by flinging her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek soundly.

‘I’ll let go of her… eventually’, he told himself, ‘just after we finish this cuddle’. It was the sort of reasoning that led him to wrap his arms tightly around her waist and crush her impressive cleavage closer. And that was before her aroma made his mouth positively drool in anticipation. It was the champagne, he decided; it was all the champagne’s fault. 

“Erm, Doctor,” she mumbled; distracting his happy thoughts. “If we’re both wearing wedding rings, what does that mean exactly?”

From his position wedged up against the crook of her neck, he replied, “It means we are married.” 

He pouted as he found himself being pushed away from her and the comfort she had offered.

“Married?! Like in… married?” she demanded to know. “Does that make me Donna Braxiatel?”

“Only if you’ve married him instead of me,” he countered, hoping she’d get the joke. Obviously she didn’t, judging by her expression.

She drew in several sharp breaths and tried again. “What I’m asking, you div, is: how official is our marriage?”

“Ooh, good question,” he encouraged her, and then thought carefully about it before he panicked. “Did you say your name during the service?”

“Yes, sort of; when you asked me.”

“And did you say all of your lines for the ceremony?” he continued to ask.

“Yes!” She glared at him. “Just like you did.”

He ran the ceremony through his head. “Oh! OH! I did! And you did!” he proclaimed, jumping up off the bed. “No no no no! This means we are legally and binding as man and wife. Donna, I’ve gone and married you!”

“I know. I was there,” she commented, somewhat testily.

‘Anyone would think she didn’t want to be married to me’, he noted before letting panic make an entrance. “But this wasn’t supposed to happen! I was marrying River Song. I’m destined to marry her, not some…” The words stuck in his throat as he fought to find the appropriate term to describe his new bride. ‘Vision of beauty’ sprang to mind, but he felt it wise to keep that to himself for now.

“Some what?” she goaded him, as anger flared through her. “What insult were you going to use, Sunshine?”

He instantly went on the defensive. “I wasn’t going to insult you; honest I wasn’t!”

She stood and menacingly stepped closer. “Oh yeah?! Next you’ll be telling me you’ve fallen desperately in love with me; and we all know how unlikely that one is!” she spat at him.

How did she…? “Are you a witch?” he wondered.

WHAM!

A slap landed fair and squarely on his cheek, making him reel back in shock.

“What was that for?!” he demanded, rubbing his offended face.

“Get us unmarried!” she bellowed. 

“Okay,” he meekly agreed. “I’ll erm, I’ll go and find the officiant and get this all sorted out.”

“You’d better,” she told him. 

Backing away from another possible attack, the Doctor grabbed the door handle of the room entrance and found it wouldn’t budge; not an inch. He tried rattling it for several seconds. “We’re locked in,” he threw at her over his shoulder.

“We can’t be,” Donna insisted, and raced to his side to try when he gave up. “We’re locked in.”

“See!” he answered gleefully. “I wasn’t pretending.”

“Do you want another smack?” she asked in icy tones.

“No,” he quickly replied, and edged away to where the window was. “We might be able to get out this way,” he suggested. He patted his pockets in vain. Where’s a sonic screwdriver when you need one? Obviously not in his pocket. He made a silent vow to always have one on him in future. 

With a bit of huffing and puffing, he eventually got the room window open, and he thoughtfully gazed out at the riverside view with the church in the background, and swept his eyes over the possibilities.

Unbeknown to him, Donna has swished up to his side to peer out too. “Can we get out this way?” she asked.

“Yes, I can climb out,” he answered, emphasising the singular nature of it.

Donna shook her head. “I’m coming with you. I ain’t sitting around here on my own; and if it’s possible to undo this then the vicar bloke will need me there too.”

He couldn’t fault her logic; only her choice of words. “If I knew where the…” vicar bloke “…officiant is exactly then we could find him and arrange that. But alas I do not,” he apologised.

Donna slowly smirked, enjoying this moment. “Then it’s a good job I do,” she informed him, relishing in his shocked surprise. “Supertemp!” she added as explanation. When he quirked an eyebrow, she felt it best to continue, “I booked the room for Brax when he came to my house.”

“Donna Noble, I could kiss you!” he blurted out.


	5. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortunately I've woken up in time to hope you all have a fabulously Happy New Year!!!

She held him at bay just in case he thought to carry that out. She’d already encouraged him too much by marrying him. “Save it for later, Scots boy.”

He sobered. “Donna, I’m not from Scotland,” he pointed out.

“And I’m not sticking around here, so get your bum in gear,” she retorted, and climbed up onto the windowsill. 

Having both peered down at their possible descent, she had a brainwave. Shooting him an extremely smug grin, Donna casually walked over to the phone by the side of the bed, and pressed a button. “Hello! I wonder if you could help me. The idiot best man waltzed off with our room key, locking me and my husband in here. Could you come and let us out, please? You can?! Good! See you in a minute.” Grinning broadly, she repeated, “Supertemp!”

“This time I really am going to kiss you,” the Doctor exclaimed in delight and grabbed her, planting a more than chaste kiss on her lips. 

She pushed him away, deeply in shock. “Why did you do that?!” she demanded.

Yes, why had he? “Because I wanted to, because you are brilliant, because it seemed like a really good idea at the time,” he honestly blurted out.

Oh god, how could she make this situation better? He was marrying someone else, and he’d be out of her life once they found the officiant. This wasn’t supposed to happen! “Not one of your better ideas,” she gasped out, and then realised that she still had a firm hold of his sleeve. Immediately she let go. “Let’s pretend it didn’t happen.”

But it did! And he wanted it to happen again. “How do I do that?”

“You’re a bloke! It’s in your nature to lie about these things,” she defensibly remarked. “Along with cheating, having secrets and ogling other women.”

What?! “Is that what human men do?” he wondered.

“All the time,” she replied, and then noticed what his words were suggesting. “Is being human optional?” 

“It is for me. As I said; I’m from Gallifrey. It’s a planet in the constellation of Kasterborous.”

She laughed nervously, thinking he was making fun of her. “No it isn’t. It’s a place near Lockerbie; I’ve seen the signs.”

“That would be Galloway,” he informed her. “As I keep saying, I’m not Scottish.” Seeing her puzzled frown, his voice softened as he added, “The whole ceremony was carried out in a different language. Didn’t you notice?”

“Sort of,” she admitted. “I thought you were all from a science fiction convention at the town hall. So that wasn’t Elvish or Klingon we were speaking?”

It was the Doctor’s turn to laugh. “No, love. It was Gallifreyan; although I must say that I’m impressed you learned your lines so well.”

“Brax helped me. He told me it was important I got it all right, and that… What’s so funny? Did I say something stupid?!” she stormed.

“Nothing’s funny. I’m just pleased you worked so hard. You have a natural talent.”

She snorted her disdain. “A natural talent for making a mess of something, you mean.”

He couldn’t bear to hold back then and let her carry on thinking such a travesty. “Donna Noble, you are wonderful,” he assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder; a hand that took on a life of its own as it caressed its way upwards until it wove its way into the thick hair at the nape of her neck. 

He eased himself forward, preparing to kiss her properly, when there was a loud rap on the door, the lock rattled and then the hotel security manager stood there expectantly, smiling at them. “The door is open,” he announced as though it wasn’t obvious.

“Thank gawd for that,” Donna declared and rushed forward; out of the Doctor’s grasp and out the door.

A split second later the Doctor hastily followed her out into the corridor. Walking with purpose, they were soon through the foyer and outside into the sunshine; crunching along on gravel as they went. 

Having avoided the treacherous climb down the trellis and ivy that clung onto the outside of the hotel, they found themselves faced with one more major obstacle: the river that separated them from the mainland. They both stopped to catch their breath.

“At this rate we’ll be strapping ducks to our feet,” Donna joked as they considered their problem.

“A-boat that,” the Doctor lamely responded. “I spy a rowing boat. Are you any good at dealing with rollocks?”

“Not as good as you, apparently,” she smirked. 

Affronted, he indignantly replied, “I was talking about rowing.”

“I know,” she remarked, and mischievously grinned at him. “Just get in the boat, you tart!”

“Mind how you go,” he warned her as he assisted her into the small moored rowing boat they had found. 

“What did you say that for, Spaceboy?” she complained. She’d been okay about stepping in until he had pointed out what might happen.

Her concentration distracted away for a second, the rowing boat wobbled dangerously. She clung onto him for dear life, and the whole thing tipped. There was a pained cry, and then a god almighty splash as the Doctor flailed about and then fell in. Donna landed up painfully in the bottom of the boat looking over the edge of the boat at him.

“Do you get water in Gallifragerlistic? Can you swim?” she called out as he frantically splashed around.

“Gallifrey!” he automatically corrected her. “Not very well,” he admitted. “You don’t get the chance to swim where I come from. Help!”

Without a second thought, Donna jumped into the river and proficiently swam around to get behind him.

“Don’t worry! This is all part of my training!” she yelled out as she grabbed him from behind. With practiced ease, she manoeuvred him to the shore and then into the small rowing boat.

The Doctor sat glumly peering at her from under his wet lashes. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. It is just something you have to know when you do scuba diving,” she explained.

His opinion of her went up by several more notches. The wet clinging wedding dress and her glistening skin provided a few more. “Let’s get out of here,” he remarked, and then laughed. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“Well, it is a classic film line.” Donna agreed, and bravely smiled back. “Hurry up with those oars though. I’m freezing my butt off here.”

“For you, my lady, anything,” he retorted, unhooked the mooring rope and started rowing.

In next to no time they were on the opposite bank of the river and had climbed out, squelching delightfully as they did.

“This vicar bloke; he’s temporarily shacked up not far from where I live,” Donna reasoned as they walked along. “Wouldn’t it be better if we were wearing something clean and dry before we talk to him?”

The Doctor nodded. “That makes sense to me. Is it very far, your place?”

“We’ll be there in two flicks of a lamb’s tail,” she confidently replied, and led them home.

 

After picking up a few flower pots, Donna found the spare key. “Gramps! Are you home?” she called out as she cautiously opened the front door. “He’s not here,” she remarked needlessly to the Doctor. “Come in and I’ll get us sorted out.”

Darting his head from side to side, just in case they were spotted by anyone, he sighed with relief and followed her in.

He found himself in a small, narrow hallway filled with light in what could have been a very dark space. “Nice,” he commented.

“Up here,” she encouraged him, and started to go up the stairs.

“Do you think I should?” he pondered.

“It depends where you want to get your kit off,” she answered. “The clean clothes are all upstairs.”

She led him straight into the bathroom at the top of the stairs. When he didn’t move, she pointed at his buttons.

“You get undressed and in the shower while I dump your clothes in the quick wash,” she informed him.

“What about you? Are you getting in too?” he innocently asked.

She batted at his chest again. “Shush, you! None of your cheek. I’ll wash in the downstairs toilet.”

“Okay,” he obediently answered and started to attack his buttons. 

Oh! She hadn’t expected him to undress in front of her like that; but she couldn’t walk away just yet. “Can you erm…?” She then turned and presented her back to him. “I need undoing.”

What?! Oh right! He stepped forward to take hold of the long zip on the back of the dress. As he pulled it down, her bare back and bra straps were revealed to him; and his thoughts immediately ran to what the front image might be. The dress instantly fell to the floor in a wet slop, making Donna gasp in shock and throw her hands over her chest and groin.

She blushed fervently. How was she going to get out of the bathroom without revealing her underwear? The only thing to do was brazen it out. That would work. Everybody had to wear knickers of some sort, after all.

Slowly she turned and flashed him a nervous smile. “I’ll go and get the machine ready. Just dump your clothes on the floor and I’ll come back and get them,” she said, and practically ran out the door.

Did that mean she would walk in when he was in the shower? Was that allowed? Should he allow that? And should he entice her in? So many questions raced through his mind as he undressed. Deciding to go with the flow, he flung all his garments to the floor near the door, and stepped into the shower.

He tried not to be aware when Donna reappeared to collect his suit and stuff, but the bathroom cabinet mirrored door just happened to be set at an angle so that he could spy on her as she moved about in her bra and knickers. It was a sheer coincidence, he told himself. 

He carried on telling himself that as he applied the hair shampoo, the soap and eventually the flannel. Especially the flannel. 

 

Donna had just started the washing machine containing his suit and converse when he appeared next to her, naked except for the bathsheet that straddled his hips, covering his legs but exposing his chest with its dusting of dark brown hair. Her eyes followed the trail downwards before she even realised it. It had to be said, it was a very nice chest.

As she stood up, he realised that Donna was only wearing a pink towel and nothing else. She adjusted it, so that it sat more comfortably over her breasts and down to her mid-thigh. The sight of her pale skin with its smattering of freckles was very becoming, he noted. The adjustment meant that he gained a momentary glimpse of a strip of naked skin from her armpit down over the curve of her hip and eventually down to her outer thigh. It looked like extremely soft and tempting skin; and his fingers itched to trail over the flashed strip.

He was brought out of his musings by Donna’s voice.

“I’ve set the washer on the fifteen minute wash, so it won’t take long. After that we’ll have to wait for it to dry in the tumble dryer and I’ll get the dress in.”

“What dress?” he asked vaguely.

“The wedding dress, you prawn,” she chastised him. It was a wonder he managed to get out the front door in the mornings with his forgetfulness. 

“Okay, what do we do now?” he asked, drawn to edge nearer. Those bare shoulders of hers were calling to him in all sorts of languages. 

“Now we make mad passionate love,” she answered breathily, running a hand suggestively over his chest.

“What?!” he groaned out.

She laughed and swatted his shoulder. “I’m joking, you div! We now go up into the bedroom… separate bedrooms before you ask… and get dressed. I’ll dig you out some of Gramps’ clothes.”

“What about your hair?” he asked with some concern. “Won’t it need washing?” 

“I’ll do that now when I come up.” She smiled indulgently at him. “Ain’t you sweet?!”

The Doctor found himself unaccountably blushing. “I erm, I’m just thinking of your welfare,” he mumbled.

“Keep on doing that and I’ll make sure this divorce goes through without a hitch,” she promised. “Follow me and we’ll see what we can find.”


	6. The Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd better point out that Action Man here (in the UK) is our equivalent of GI Joe; except the face was completely different.

A relatively short time later they both dressed in alternative clothes and the washing machine trundled on, dealing with the wedding dress this time. Donna had thrown on a simple v-neck t shirt, waterfall cardigan and snug fit jeans. The Doctor couldn’t help wondering why she had gone to the bother of covering up her valuable assets; in fact it seemed daft to him. Not that he was looking closely, of course…

“I’m really sorry about your Converses getting wet. They’ll take ages to dry,” Donna sympathised. “At least the rest of your stuff should be dry by the time we get back from the Travelodge.”

The Doctor peered down at his outfit dejectedly. “I’m really not sure about this,” he whined.

“You know the answer to the problem,” Donna countered. “Deal with it.” And she burst into giggles at his peeved expression. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you look too bad.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I do,” he answered sarcastically. “I’m not sure about the grey going with my eyes. This thick woollen jumper looks like it has swallowed me; the trousers have had an argument with my socks…” He lifted up a foot in demonstration to show the gap at this point. “And you expect me to wear wellington boots!” he remarked in clear disgust.

“Oi! You needed footwear at a moment’s notice; I found you replacement footwear, Spaceman! Beggars can’t be choosers,” she testily retorted. 

He smirked whimsically. “I’ve just gone from a boy to a man!”

Donna frowned back at him. “How did you do that? It sounds like some special ceremony I missed out on. Killed a deer or something? Do you get a Scout badge that has to be sown on?”

He sighed in exasperation. “You just called me Spaceman instead of Spaceboy. That’s a vast improvement.”

“If you say so,” she self-consciously muttered. “I can change it to Space twit if you like?”

“Nah… Spaceman is fine with me,” he decided. “I shall now put my space boots on,” he told her, as he sat down and pulled on Wilf’s green wellington boots. “And soon I will go for my spacewalk!” He stood up at this point; looking very chuffed with himself as he stood looking like a home assembled Action Man doll.

Donna regarded him scornfully. “Do I need to provide you with space reins, a space dummy or a space pram?”

The Doctor glared at her. “Do you know what, Donna? Sometimes you are so funny I almost laugh. Fortunately I have better sense.”

“Well I’m not the one boasting I can walk as if it’s a new thing I’ve just learnt, Space baby.”

“Baby!” he protested. “I’ll give you a baby!”

Donna hastily swept her gaze around the room and then shushed him. “Don’t go around saying you’ll give me a baby, you prawn; people might be listening!”

He scowled. “People like you, you mean?”

“No,” she answered, drawing out the syllable. “People like Gramps!” she hissed. “He’ll think we might start a family.”

“Well… it’s not beyond the realms of possibility,” he reasoned. “There was once a crossbreed between my companion, Leila, and a Gallifreyan.”

“How wizard!” Donna scoffed. “You make it sound so romantic! Crossbreed indeed. You’ll be milking me next.”

Oh! Human milk meant breasts, he realised. And his gaze instantly landed on her human breast milk utensils. That’s bosom to you and me. “I erm... I could always try,” he blustered. “I have never actually…” He mimed a faint gesture that could have been practically anything. “They are exceedingly fine examples of…”

Donna rolled her eyes. “They’re called breasts, Doctor; and no, you aren’t trying any of that nonsense with me. Now who the bloody hell is walking up the path?!”

Who? What? When? Where did she go? He stood looking pathetically at her departing back just as the doorbell rang. 

It didn’t take much of a guess to work out who it could be, so Donna wrenched open the street door and demanded, “Yes?!”

An irate man stood on the doorstep, fisting his hands impatiently as he did so. “Where is he?” he yelled out, and barged passed her just as the Doctor stepped into the hall.

“Hello, I’m the Doctor,” he got as far as introducing himself when the trespassing oaf struck out and landed a punch to his jaw, sending him sprawling on the floor.

The oaf glared down at the Doctor’s prone form. “That’s for stealing my woman!”

“Your what?!” the Doctor spluttered, wiping the blood from his mouth. The taste of it on his tongue wasn’t so great either.

“Get out!” Donna shouted at the oaf. “I’m not your anything, Mick! I’m not even your girlfriend so I don’t know where you got that mad idea from.” She turned and grabbed up Wilf’s large umbrella that rested by the coat stand in order to use it threateningly. “I said get out!”

“I’m not leaving without an explanation,” Mick firmly told her.

“Okay,” she agreed, still wielding the umbrella as menacingly as she could. “Spaceman, this prat is my ex-boyfriend who cheated on me by going off with Michelle Maguire the night before my birthday. God knows why he thinks he’s got the right to be here, but he is leaving, pronto!”

The Doctor had stood up by this point, and edged nearer to her side.

“And who is he?!” Mick sneered at her.

The Doctor held up his left hand and waggled his fingers to show off his wedding ring. “I’m her husband,” he said icily.

“Her what?! But Donna, I love you!” Mick cried. “I was going to give up Michelle and take you back.”

“Of all the ch-!” Donna started to retort; but a gentle touch on her hand from the Doctor stopped her in her tracks.

“That’s nice for you. Unfortunately Donna is unable to reject you any further as we have a honeymoon to enjoy. I wish I could say it was nice meeting you, Mick,” the Doctor said calmly, evenly, with a deep-seated malice that had Mick backing away from him and out the door. 

Donna deliberately used her left hand to grasp the door and shut Mick out, giving him a good view of her wedding ring as she did so. As the door shut she breathed a sigh of relief. “To think I once thought he was worth loving,” she commented. “I must have needed my head examining.”

The Doctor immediately wrapped his arms around her, and consoled her in his embrace. “You’ve got a better life now without him and his priggish ways.”

She sighed again. “Sometimes I don’t know what’s worse, having a rubbish boyfriend or no boyfriend at all.”

“You do not need a man to define your life,” he informed her fondly. “Instead you achieve brilliance all on your own.”

“Do you think you can put that in writing as a personal reference? It might get me a permanent job,” she joked.

“Donna,” he sighed. “Oh Donna!” He couldn’t resist moving his lips against her temple in a tender kiss. It seemed the least he could do.

“Doctor, lovely as this is, we’ve got to find the officiant and sort all this marriage business out,” came the muffled response from next to his chest.

“I suppose we have,” he agreed; loosening his hold but not quite letting go yet. “Would you care to accompany me, Ms Noble?”

She smiled back in relief. “Certainly, Mr Braxiatel.”

“No, call me Doctor,” he begged.

“Okay, Dr Braxiatel,” she amended her answer.

“That’s not what I meant. Just call me Doctor,” he tried to correct her.

Just Doctor? That was a bit pretentious of him, she decided. “Alright, Spaceman. But why don’t you want me to call you Braxiatel?”

“The answer is quite simple,” he explained as they linked arms and set off on their jaunt. “Braxiatel is my brother’s name.”

“And hence your name,” she added, mentally scoring herself a point. 

His face scrunched up in thought. “Yes, well, maybe you could argue that; but it truly isn’t.”

“Are you saying that your brother picked up a telephone directory and randomly chose a name to use? Cos it’s beginning to sound like that,” she mocked.

“I wouldn’t exactly say it was a telephone directory he used; but you’re close,” he said with a laugh.

“Talking of books, what was that book you said you wrote all about?” she wondered; stopping momentarily before they crossed the road.

“Oh that!” he blustered. “It’s about the customs in London and the surrounding urban sprawl; I think.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘I think’?! Surely you’d know, since you’ve written a whole book about it!”

He nervously rubbed the back of his head, forcing them both to stop walking. “Yes, I did, but I’ve sort of got a confession and you’re the only person I can tell.”

Ooh, a bit of gossip! She leaned in to listen more carefully. “Go ahead; tell me,” she encouraged him.

“It’s like this,” he began. “I have been to Earth, and London specifically, before; but I was awfully young then and I hardly remember a thing about it.”

“Go on,” she softly said when he hesitated.

“The thing is… and this must sound dreadful… but I made it all up,” he answered despondently. 

“You mean the whole thing? Well, it _is_ a book; aren’t they supposed to be totally made up?” she mused.

His expression dropped even further. “Not on Gallifrey they aren’t. My brother is a leading academic, and I’ve dishonoured the name by writing a piece of fiction.”

“Shame that didn’t work with Jeffrey Archer,” Donna muttered to herself. “Look, if anyone is likely to know and be peeved it’s your brother. Has he complained about this great work of yours?”

“No,” he answered. “So far he has enjoyed the fact people have said nice things about it to him.”

“There you go then!” she declared brightly. “He probably knows and doesn’t care. Case solved. Now you can stop sulking.”

“I am not sulking,” he insisted with a pout. “But I’m sure River chose this venue and this particular wedding because of my book. She seems to think it would be a quaint thing to do.”

Donna thought carefully about her answer. “Well it _was_ sort of quaint, and charming; and more than a bit beautiful, you have to admit.”

“You were beautiful,” he commented before he could stop himself.

“You’re doing it again, Spaceman. You’re supposed to compliment the real bride,” she complained.

“You were the real bride,” he softly stated.

“That may be so, but I wasn’t supposed to be; which gets us back to the topic of the officiant. We’re nearly there. Is there any special way I’m supposed to greet him?” she asked.

He shrugged. “’Hello’ tends to be universal,” he answered; and wondered why Donna instantly swatted his arm.

 

“Welcome, my son,” the officiant greeted them as he invited them into his room. “How may help you both?”

“We think we’re married,” Donna blurted out.

The man looked puzzled. “Of course you are married. Is that a problem?”

“It is in this case, Your Reverence,” the Doctor explained. “Donna was merely standing in for my betrothed, but we accidentally said the full vows to each other.”

“Ah! I see!” the officiant remarked thoughtfully. “Have you consummated this relationship yet?”

“In what way?” Donna asked. “Beyond the normal, I mean.”

“I am talking about the melding of minds and bodies,” the officiant explained, with a smile.

“In that case, no,” Donna answered.

When the officiant shot the Doctor a quizzical look for not having done so, he immediately responded with a lame, “We’ve had a busy day; what with the drinking champagne, swimming in the river and getting here.” 

“Then we have something to work with,” the officiant happily told them. 

Donna looked to the Doctor to say something, but he just sat there stunned. “What do we have to do to make this null and void?” she asked.

“Simple,” the officiant replied. “Bring Professor River Song here to agree that it was a mistake in lieu of her being the bride; I carry out a separation ceremony, and the real marriage takes its place.”

“Thank you, Your Reverence,” the Doctor barely said above a mumble. “Once my brother has located River we shall do exactly that.”

There was an understanding smile. “Then that merely leaves me to wish you both luck.”


	7. The Divorce

Having left the officiant, it seemed logical to seek out something to eat; an activity they both readily agreed they had to do. They sat in the Beefeater restaurant attached to the Travelodge, sipping tea whilst eating burger and chips. Both of them were feeling quite morose, for similar reasons. 

“It must be nice to know you’ll be back with your River very soon,” Donna commented to break the silence between them. It was strange to have to do so. Up until they had seen the Gallifreyan officiant they had talked almost nonstop without too many problems.

“Yeah,” the Doctor answered, but there was no joy in his eyes. He used the act of swallowing a mouthful of food to cover up his growing anxiety about the situation. “What are you going to do next after the divorce?”

“After the annulment,” she corrected him, “I’ll probably rush out and buy Dad that telescope I’ve been promising.” She then thought to ask, “Aren’t you going to get in contact with Brax? I haven’t seen you talk to him at all.”

“Haven’t you?” he queried. “I assure you that I have. Brax has been running around chasing after River for hours. I’m sure she’s avoiding him on purpose.”

“Why would she do that?!” Donna instantly wondered. “I mean…,” she stammered when she caught his expression, “if she wanted to desperately marry you she ought to run towards Brax, not away. I know I would.” 

“Are you saying that you want to marry me?” he teased.

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” she answered, hoping to shoot his teasing down. Nobody used her feelings against her, and she’d be damned if she started all that nonsense now. “I’m doing what’s right.”

He reflexively reached out to cover her hand. “Donna, I want you to know that I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me today. I don’t think I could have coped without you.”

She snorted self-consciously. “I’m sure you could’ve.” 

He lifted up her hand and brought it to his lips; kissing her fingers as she watched in stunned silence. “You are very special, Donna Noble. Never ever forget that,” he sincerely whispered.

How do you answer that? Donna gawped at him like a gasping fish. 

 

Braxiatel had had a terrible day. Nothing but worries ran through his head. ‘Where was River?’ was the uppermost one; closely followed by ‘can the wedding be rescued?’, although there was something about the fledgling relationship between his brother and Donna to add fuel to the fire. 

Perhaps he had enjoyed helping Donna learn her lines too much? It was possible. She was delightful company. And he knew he had gained pleasure from helping her don the wedding outfit. He also knew that given the opportunity, he would return to Earth and visit Donna at the earliest possible opportunity. There had been something between them that could grow if given sufficient encouragement and love.

Love was a dangerous word. Love had been in the Doctor’s eyes when he had seen Donna, both before the veil was lifted and after. He knew that look all too well. After all, he had picked up the pieces on more than one occasion. Which led his thoughts right back to River Song. 

His House might be gaining crucial power and prestige by the Doctor marrying her, but he didn’t personally trust her. There was something suspicious about her archaeological records, as far as he was concerned. Oh yes, plenty of people thought her research was valid; but he had found minor discrepancies when he had been able to get hold of a sample copy. 

Having given up searching, Braxiatel slouched back to the honeymoon hotel to release the Doctor and Donna from their ignorance. Only then did it strike him that he had, in no certain terms, imprisoned them together in a compromising position. A large part of him found that very amusing. What if the Doctor succumbed to Donna’s obvious charms? He himself had found her extremely enticing after only a short time in her company. Would the Doctor be equally entranced? He was certainly getting some contented vibes from his brother at that second. Call him stupid, but he’d even go so far as to say there was more than a smidgeon of romance in that positive vibe. Brax chuckled to himself. It would serve River right if she lost the Doctor to her understudy! In fact he was prepared to encourage it. 

Or was he? Braxiatel found himself stopping in his tracks. Did he want the lovely Donna to be swept away by his brother despite his misgivings about the wedding to River? Either way, he decided, one of them was going to win Donna. And if he hoped it was him, that wasn’t too selfish, was it…?

Entering the lobby of the hotel, Braxiatel was distracted away from his thoughts by the appearance of the receptionist.

“Mr Braxiatel! I have a visitor waiting for you in the lounge,” she informed him with a pleasant smile.

“Thank you. A visitor you say? Can you tell me who?” Braxiatel asked.

“Yes, Mr Braxiatel. It is a Professor Song. Shall I order you both tea?” the receptionist offered.

“Please,” Braxiatel replied; but inside he was seething. How dare she lead him a merry dance?! Immediately he sent a silent psychic message to his brother to say she had finally turned up.

 

The Doctor had gone from kissing Donna’s hand to caressing her wrist; and onto thoughts of other deeds. If he was going to lose her, he argued, then he was going to explore this emotion before it escaped for all eternity. “Shall we walk along by the river?” he suggested once they had paid for their meal.

Donna could feel herself being swept away by him, could sense his gentlemanly charms ooze into her very being, and she was defenceless to stop it happening. This might be her only chance to ever experience such a thing; she adored being the centre of someone’s attention like this, and for the time being she was prepared to believe that it was all true. What harm could it do? They both knew what the consequences would be if they stopped; or if they continued. “Why not?” she happily answered, and let him take her hand to lead her away.

They made small talk about how pretty the river path was, how good the view was, how near to central London they were; in fact all the usual stuff was discussed. Well, it was, until they found the shade of a conveniently low hanging tree that could hide them from general view. Once they stood beneath the boughs of the willow, they drew closer; allowing their arms to wrap around each other as their need for further intimacy made them bolder. 

He tenderly cupped her cheek. “This must be what the poets felt,” he surmised as he gazed intensely into her eyes. “For I have never seen anyone lovelier, who can make my hearts race and my soul sing.”

Donna blushed and tried to avert her eyes. “Be careful, Spaceman. You can’t blame the champagne this time for getting all mushy.”

“No, I cannot,” he agreed. “Instead this is like a dying man’s last request.”

“It is?” she queried, unable to take her eyes off him now. “I’m not sure that’s how you’re supposed to describe a wedding.”

“Maybe not,” he concurred. “But this may be the last chance I ever get to be with you alone, and I want to make the most of it. Can I kiss you, Donna? Please grant my wish.”

She shrugged in feigned resignation. “Who am I to deny a man his dying wish?” she murmured, and drew his head down until their lips briefly touched.

This kiss was very different from their previous attempts at kissing. This kiss was full of longing, of unfulfilled dreams, of unattainable goals, of things swept away before they had a chance to shine; and in that moment love was confirmed, fed, and devoured. Not matter how brief their love affair would be, they both wanted this moment desperately; and they grabbed it with both hands.

Lips parted to let tongues slide, to taste, tempt and promise as their kisses deepened into passion. And all the time the unspoken message was “be mine; love me; you are all I ever wanted” as they continued to hungrily give and take all that they wanted. 

They finally stopped only when the Doctor received his brother’s psychic missive. It acted like a cold shower upon his senses; and he reluctantly let go of the woman in his arms.

“We have to go,” he softly informed her. “Brax has found River.”

“What about your clothes? You can’t turn up in wellies,” she immediately asked, letting practicalities rule as her heart threatened to break.

 

A quick trip home to bag up the cumbersome wedding dress and the Doctor’s suit, and they were on their way to the island hotel; taking the conventional route this time. Both of them hardly said a word on the way; but the Doctor had taken hold of Donna’s hand as though it was his lifeline, and she let him.

They only let go as they stood in the hotel lobby and a relieved Braxiatel raced up to greet them. In fact he couldn’t wait to get away. “River’s right this way,” he informed them, “and the officiant should be here soon.”

Donna handed over the dress as a woman came into view. She had to admit that if this was River Song then she was not what she had expected. She had anticipated the confidence and air of authority, but River looked more mature. Okay, Donna had expected a bimbo model; she freely admitted it. The River she saw was not some bimbo; definitely not.

The other thing Donna saw was red! “Excuse me, are you River Song?” Donna strode up and asked.

Having fixated on the Doctor, the woman deliberately turned slowly to face Donna. “Yes. Yes I am. Who are you?”

“I’m Donna Noble, the one that’s been looking after your husband while you swanned off having a jolly,” she informed her with a jab of her index finger.

“I was not having a jolly, as you so colourfully put it,” River defended herself.

“Oh yeah?! Then how _would_ you describe it? I’d love to know considering you’ve caused no end of trouble for Brax and me; let alone the Doctor!” Donna spat back.

A smug smile spread over River’s face. “Brax and you…? I’m sure you’ve had a great deal of fun together. I hear Brax can be very thorough.”

“Why, you evil cow!” Donna yelled out as her hand swung back, and was instantly caught by Brax.

“No, Donna; don’t,” he quietly and calmly implored her.

“But she just insinuated that we…,” Donna started to complain, but Brax interrupted her again.

“I know,” he sympathised. “It’s the only way River thinks.”

“Now hang on!” River protested. “Why am I being insulted when your floozy can’t keep her gobby little human mouth shut?”

“I’ll kill her!” Donna cried out; and this time it took both the Doctor and Brax to hold her back.

“Feisty little thing, isn’t she?” River commented.

“You condescending c-” Donna’s words were cut off by the Doctor clamping his hand over her mouth.

“Donna, it won’t help if you insult her,” he begged. “Please try to calm down.” He took his hand away, but both of the men kept a hold of her arms.

“But she insulted me, implied I’ve shagged Brax rotten and worst of all, she jilted you! Is your House that important that your feelings don’t count?! What sort of hold does she have over you all?” Donna argued.

“I’ll explain, Thete,” Braxiatel offered to the Doctor. “You sort out the wedding.”

“Thanks, Brax,” the Doctor answered with relief; and completely let go of Donna. “I think I can take it from here, Donna; but thank you. Thank you so much for helping me out today. It was an honour to meet you.”

Donna visible deflated. River had won, and all that was left to do was to go home and resume her mundane life. “You too,” she replied. “Good luck with everything.”

“Come on, Donna,” Brax gently coaxed her; and led her away and out of the building.


	8. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I don't stop fiddling with the end and post this now I never will.

She glanced back just the once, to take one last look at the Doctor. But his attention was on River, who was looking decidedly pleased with herself as they headed for the officiant. What would she give to be able to thump River one? Except when she looked back at them, Donna wanted to grab the Doctor and snog him even more. Her heart already ached for him as pain blossomed in her soul; and she sadly turned away.

It was only Brax who heard the Doctor say to River, “We need to talk…”

 

Brax adored his newly acquired human. She was full of laughter, compassion, comfort and friendship. She had dismissively described herself as his Tamagotchi pet, a reference Brax did not entirely understand; but he had been insistent that she was no such thing! He found that increasingly he lived for the days that she smiled at him; those moments charmed him.

Donna was very happy with Braxiatel; almost extremely happy. He had turned up soon after her dad’s death, offering a release and escape from her grief and subsequent anger. In other words, he had opened up his life on Gallifrey to her, and she had willingly accepted the chance to change her life.

She had quickly settled into her temp position in the Archive he supervised, and had snickered at the way the other archivist assistants tended to pussyfoot around Braxiatel as if he would blow up at them at any moment. It was not the Brax she knew; the lovely, caring, sharing Brax. The Brax who had hinted at promising more from their friendship whenever she wanted to take a more permanent position. And she was okay with that; it was a comfortable safety net. She had been completely honest with him and stated that she could not have given a definite answer until her heart mended. You can’t choose who your heart falls in love with, and unfortunately she had met and married the Doctor first.

It was because of Braxiatel that Donna had ventured out and written a book of her own; a children’s book, no less. “We don’t have the same fairy stories here as you know. Write the folk tales you know,” he had encouraged her.

So she had; with some modest success. It was successful enough to stop the Elders of the High Council, and various other officials along the way, to leave her in peace for the time being. They were a bunch of stuffed shirts; even Brax. But for now he was _her_ stuffed shirt, and for that she was very grateful. She could not have survived without him.

Her current occupation was typing up Braxiatel’s notes in order to update the Archive records. It had taken some time to get used to the system, the language and the change of keyboard; but she had accomplished it all, thanks to his patience. She smiled fondly when she saw Brax appear in her peripheral vision, but he looked slightly worried. Her concern grew when he opened the cardboard box held in his hands and his face visibly paled.

As Donna watched him, Brax called over one of his assistants. “Drema, would you deal with this new publication, please?”

Drema did the library equivalent of running to his side. “Certainly, Archivist Braxiatel,” she gushed, pushing her long white-blonde hair out of her eyes. Before he had the chance to grumble and tell her to, Drema peered into the box with delight. “Ooh, it’s your brother’s latest tome,” she informed him pleasantly, and then pulled out a copy to peruse. “And oh look! He’s dedicated it to Professor River Song. How sweet!”

“Yes; very,” Braxiatel commented drily. “Just keep it away out of view for the time being.”

“Why?” Drema questioned, and then noticed where his gaze had wandered to. “Oh right! She still not ready?”

Braxiatel instantly stiffened his posture. “I do not partake in idle gossip, Drema. I merely deal with facts.”

With that, he turned on his heel and marched away.

Unseen in her position at the furthest desk, Donna’s heart clenched; for both him and herself. No, she was still nowhere near ready to get over the Doctor, it would seem. But she planned to, very soon. Brax deserved that she tried.

There was a kerfuffle up by the main entrance, so Donna halted in carrying out her task to wander over to the nearest bookcase, where the view was better, and took a look. Surely it wasn’t the High Council guard again? They periodically descended on the Archive to complain about Donna being there, sullying their records; and each time Braxiatel had exhausted himself sorting it out, stating he needed her valuable contribution as they dealt with the humanoid section. Fortunately the human colonies and the almighty human empires had/would do a lot to archive.

As she strained to see anything, there was a shout of, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

This was followed by a, “Because I didn’t think you would be interested anymore!”

Strange. It wasn’t the usual argument that made it into the confines of the Archive.

Donna had just made the decision to go and look properly when a breathless man appeared at the end of the aisle she stood in, leaning shakily against the biographies bookcases sign. “Hello,” she greeted him cautiously. “How are you, Doctor?”

“I’m fine. How are you, Donna?” he asked in return.

“I’m alright,” she answered, and then peered behind him. “Where’s Brax? He should have greeted you.”

“He did; but I didn’t come to see him,” the Doctor replied.

“Didn’t you? Oh… the new book. I suppose you came to check that we got the new book. Drema was dealing with that.”

Her words seemed to startle him. “Did you... erm… happen to read the dedication?” he wondered.

The arrogant prig! Had he turned up to rub her nose in it?! “No, but I heard that it’s dedicated to River! Very romantic, that.”

He sighed in exasperation. “No, Donna. I didn’t write it for her. The dedication is to my wife.”

She stared back at him blankly. “But your wife…!”

He provided the answer by pointing at her. “Is still you, Donna. You are my only wife. The only one I want.”

“Me?!” she squeaked.

“Yes, you.”

She flung her hand over her mouth, unable to believe him, as she fought off her threatening tears.

“Aren’t you going to say something? It isn’t like you to be this quiet,” he teased. “And I’ve come all this way to find you.”

“I can’t…” She sniffed, and tried again. “What happened?” she asked in a small voice.

“She didn’t want me anymore. Apparently I’m not the version she loved, whatever that means; and I definitely didn’t want her after meeting you. I heard she has run off with some bloke wearing a bow tie and a fez, of all things. Thank goodness she never got me to do that.”

“I can’t see you losing your look like that,” Donna agreed. “So you dumped her because you didn’t want style advice?”

He stepped closer, and reached out a hand to caress a lock of her hair. “I dumped her because she wasn’t you; could never be you,” he whispered, leaning in to smell her intoxicating aroma. “I searched for you; been all over planet Earth, and even had a quick trip to the moon, just in case. And then I found out through Brax that you’ve been working here.”

“Brax did that?” she pondered, both grateful and also hurt on his behalf.

“Don’t cry,” the Doctor comforted her, moving ever closer until his lips were a hair’s breadth away.

“Oi! I never had ‘obey’ in my vows,” she playfully chastised him.

“No, you merely promised to be mine until death parts us,” he added.

“Not much of a promise was it?” She pulled a comical face.

“Nope, a bit rubbish really,” he pretended to agree. “By the way, I popped in and saw Wilf. He says hello. Lovely bloke; shame about Wilf’s little condition. Or rather, it was a shame. All fixed now,” he said offhand.

“What are you on about? What have you fixed?” she demanded.

“His memory problem. A few brain chemical elements were misaligned, but a quick flash of the sonic screwdriver, and he was right as rain. Weird expression, that,” he pondered. “Can rain ever be wrong?”

“Wrong in the head. Sort of describes you; not that I think about it,” she commented, holding in a squee. “Is he alright?”

The Doctor fought off a scowl. “Of course he’s alright. I wouldn’t have come unless he was.”

“Thank you, Doctor. So that’s the only reason you came?” She waited expectantly.

“No. I brought back this.” He held out his hand. Nestled in the palm was her wedding ring. The very one she had handed over to Brax.

“You brought me a souvenir,” she remarked, hoping against hope she was wrong.

“You could say that,” he replied. A smirk appeared when her expression fell. “Then again, you could say something else entirely.”

Inevitably she asked, “Like what?”

“Like ‘marry me, Doctor’,” he suggested.

“Why would I say that?!”

“Obviously I’d expect you to put a please on the end,” he added cheekily.

“Obviously,” she drily agreed. “Is there anything else I should say?”

“Erm.., that more or less covers it, apart from the being desperately in love bit.” He grinned.

“Who am I in love with, precisely?”

His smug expression said it all. “That would be me.”

“And do I get to be loved back by anyone in this scenario?”

“That would be me also,” he readily supplied.

She forced herself not to smile. “Assuming rather a lot, aren’t we, sunshine?”

“It depends if we want to argue semantics.” He eased forward. “How do you fancy arguing about something else?”

What was his game now?! “I know I’ll regret asking this, but what?”

He pulled her into his arms. “Little things like which side of the bed to sleep on, beef or chicken for dinner, which bra you wear for the wedding.”

“You are obsessed with my boobs!” she accused him.

Nope, there was no fazing him in this moment. “I cannot think of anything better, except for your hair. And you have your own obsessions.”

“Do I?” Okay, she might get away with this one.

“I remember how you reacted to me in that towel,” he teased.

“Good! Let’s find you one.”

He waggled his eyebrows playfully at the thought; and then decided to go for gold. “Donna, can I kiss you? I’ve waited far too long, and I’m not sure I can wait any longer.”

A mischievously glint appeared in her eyes. “It’ll cost you.”

“It already has,” he answered. “Oh, bugger this!” And he grabbed her; crushing his mouth down onto her lips as he took the kiss he had been yearning for since their wedding day. There was no way he would release her from his tender clutches now that she was within his arms.

“By the way,” he eventually breathed. “We’re still married. It was never annulled. Are you pleased?”

“Oh yes!” She grabbed his head, and allowed him to kiss her again.

On and on; until...

The sound of his true name burst through her synapses, colouring her mind as they continued to share passionate kisses; binding their souls into one, and burying its way deep into her heart.

As for the Doctor, he had to admit it was the best promise he had ever broken. And Brax had vowed to do something ludicrous if their House showed disapproval. Okay… when their House showed disapproval, since that was almost written in stone. But there was something golden in this human’s timeline that spoke of greatness, destiny and family in ways unimaginable.

 

The word ‘destiny’ was running through Braxiatel’s head too as he viewed the timelines. His brother, Thete, and Donna were destined to be together, and he wasn’t part of that. But his hearts only knew joy on their behalf.

His place was in the Archive, his own destiny lay in the corridors of power; and the universes would continue on without his presence but with the help of the infamous Time Lord known as the Doctor. As he tried to avoid seeing Donna promise her life away, he felt blessed that he had such a fine brother. The universes were in safe hands.

THE END


End file.
